


Human v. Humanity

by angstmachine (bibbleboo), bibbleboo



Category: The Secret Saturdays
Genre: AU, Apocalypse, Dystopia, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-04-24 01:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14344806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibbleboo/pseuds/angstmachine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibbleboo/pseuds/bibbleboo
Summary: Dystopian AU. Instead of stealing kur’s power for himself, Argost leads the world with something entirely different. Fear.(aka my name is Edgelord 3000 and my goal in life is to take cartoons entirely too seriously hope u enjoy)





	1. A harpoon

**Author's Note:**

> Authors note: thanks for clicking! it’s been a while, in fact I haven’t written anything in quite literally 10+ years sooo I may be a bit rusty :’] but this was solely for fun and to get back into the habit of writing. (aka; I am not accepting constructive criticism on this one.) Anyways this is what happens when you binge the handmaids tale and devilman crybaby in the same week you just get the apocalypse story fever lmao, I hope you enjoy my fanfic even though it's for a long dead fandom [praying emoji] r.i.p secret saturdays ily jay stephens
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter; Animal death.
> 
> POV: Doyle.

* * *

Fuck, it’s cold.  


Everybody’s used to it by now, even Zon, but every morning that’s the first thought on my mind. I really don’t want to get up. I’m still tired, no matter how many hours I sleep, and I’m still cold, no matter how many layers I wear. The sun’s right in my eyes. It’s not motivating. The sun is out for 15 hours a day here, I have no idea how early it is. All I know is the sun still exists. ‘ _Thank god,_ ’ I think to myself. I’ve learned to be grateful for normalcy.  


My mind’s been running for too long. Idle mornings are never good. I will myself to sit up. _Fuck_ , it’s cold. I shimmy on a long black turtleneck that I had sitting on the nightstand. I’ve reworn it at least twice this week. Washing clothes has become a hassle. Melting snow on the stove to make clean water really isn’t the hard part, it’s drying them in negative degree weather that’s a bitch. No time today though. We have to go seal hunting today, Zak’s least favorite activity. I wanna explain to him that his bleeding heart doesn’t mean we should starve, but frankly I don’t like it either. I can never get over the irony of seeing pups in the distance after a kill and knowing that I, sad little orphan boy, had just shared with them my fate.  


I stand up and shake the thoughts away. Circle of life, or some shit. Not my problem. My problem is not having enough money. We need a better pot for the stove, and Zak needs new gloves. Seals are a valuable item here. Zon can catch us fish, but she can’t handle the cold for more than an hour or two. It’s enough to keep our fridge stocked but not enough to make a profit. Today’s just one of those days where I have to be a ‘responsible adult’. Those days suck, and lately they seem to be plentiful. Desperate times.  


I put my coat on. Maybe I can sneak out before Zak wakes up. When we first got here he was mad every time I left, he made sure to lecture me on how wrong I was and how valuable every living creature is. Sometimes I believed him, but I knew in the end it was us versus the world. Now he insists on coming along to help, even when it’s hunting. He's taken on this idea that it’s his duty, that it’ll make him more ‘man’ or something. All he does is help carry, and he always looks away before I kill it. Maybe he’s just tired of staying at home, alone with his idle thoughts, like I am. Either way, I’m glad his curiosity doesn’t override his innocence. Animals are his weak spot after all.  


I smack my neck harshly. Now _mosquitos._ Mosquitos don’t count as animals. They’re demons. We both can agree on that.  


“Where are you going?”  


I look to the doorway. Shit, he’s already awake.  


“Sealing. We need cash.” ‘ _You don’t need to come._ ’ I want to say, but I know he’d call me out for treating him like a child.  


He starts getting his winter gear on. Why do I suddenly feel like a boy scout leader. We both know you’re not gonna earn your hunting badge today kiddo. If there was a badge for being the most sensitive boy in your troop, or for being able to hide your tears over dead seals, you’d have em in the bag.  


“Don’t forget to double up on gloves.” Two pairs of ripped gloves is almost equal to one functioning pair, right?  


“And you might wanna double up on socks while you’re at it. I wanna sell what we catch by the end of the day. We’ll be 35 miles southeast from Teller, so it’ll take about a half an hour to get there.”  


“ _Yeah_ , if you drive at 70 miles per hour.”  


“. . . You say that as if that’s not exactly what I’m gonna do.”  


He looked at me with judgemental, but not surprised, eyes.  


“Of _course_ you are.”  


His mother invented that look. Any time I did something stupid, she’d be there to judge me for it. In a loving sibling way, of course. It was a good way to lighten the mood before my inevitable hospital trip.  


I swallow hard. I shouldn’t think about her right now. We need to get moving.  


I toss my nephew the keys to our ridiculously fast and dangerous machine. I trust that he’ll turn it on for me without trying to ride it. Not after last time. Been there, done that, got the scar to prove it.  


I bought that snowmobile 4 years ago, around the same time I bought this safehouse. The cabin was cheap as it was basically abandoned, but the snowmobile was $3,500. Used. Lucky I’m so paranoid, They go for at least $5,000 these days. I wish I could remember what I was so scared of that made me decide to get a bug out shelter. Zombies? A pandemic? A zombie pandemic? Hiding from lawyers? Who knows. If I could go back in time I wouldn’t dwell, I’d just be sure to pick anywhere but the Alaskan Fucking Bush.  


My hands feel hot as I mount the snowmobile. 30 minutes of idle time. Of time to think. My thoughts usually lead me to wondering if the rest of my family is still alive. I think back to before all this. Before we knew Zak was Kur. When it was just us running around on a wild goose chase, helping people here and there, blissfully unaware of the situation that was about to unfold. Before Argost had found us out and was able to turn a television show into a weapon. Before he had lead the masses into being a fear mongered cult that thinks a 12 year old is a world ending anti-christ. A 12 year old that can't even watch you kill a seal.  


Maybe the real reason I haven’t heard from them in 3 months is more simple than I realize. Maybe they just dropped their phone. Maybe it was being tracked and they had to get rid of it. Maybe they’re hiding on the other side of the world. I don’t care how good of scientists they are, the reception on these things can’t be _that_ strong. I wonder if they get stuck in question loops like this. I wonder if they ever get any answers.  


I slow down as we approach the basin. I didn’t realize we were already this close.  


My legs feel stiff as I climb down. My fingers aren’t much better off as I try to pull out my harpoon. I can already spot a few small holes formed in the icey skin of the water. It’s a breathing hole. Seals have to come up for air every now and then, the same way we have to leave the safety of our off-the-grid cabin to get food. Dangerous, but necessary for survival. For all we know, someone might be holding a harpoon over _our_ heads right now.  


“Get the bags ready.” I say. I always bring dark ones so he doesn’t have to see the blood as we head back. Opening one has proven to be a good starting ritual, it's a task that he can pretend to fumble so as to distract himself. Yknow. While I stand here and stab things in the head.  


An eery feeling settles into my stomach when I notice I haven't heard a response.  


“Zak?”  


When I look at him he’s staring right past me. I know there’s nothing there, It’s just miles of water and ice, but I turn to investigate anyways.  


“. . . I thought I heard something.”  


I half smile.  


“Uhh. . . Like a _seal?_ ”  


Cue the judgement eyes.  


“ _No,_ like a cr-”  


I can’t hear the last part, the ice cracking violently beneath my feet is too loud. Before it gives way, I see something dark brown shoot up through the formation, shattering inches of solid ice around it like a pane of glass. It's not a seal. Way too big to be a seal. I don’t have the time to analyze it. I’m submerged into pitch black darkness.  


_**Fuck,** it’s cold._  


The instinctual part of my brain wants me to scream but the rational part tells me to hold my breath. My body doesn’t listen to either. My muscles constrict and I let go of my air all at once. My chest aches from the shock, my arms and legs are immediately enveloped in a pins and needles sensation. I can hear sounds above me, albeit muffled. It doesn’t matter. I can’t reach for them. I’m sinking.  


Oh hey. I remember why I bought that cabin. _Yellowstone._ I had just watched Dante’s Peak and totally freaked myself out.  


A supervolcano kinda seems like a vacation at this point.


	2. A seal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zak is forced to make some tough decisions. Adulthood isn't all it's cracked up to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaa i cant believe i finished the second chapter!! I was really worried i was gonna lose interest but people seem so genuinely interested in this and im so grateful OTL Thank you so much readers for your comments+kudos, i’ll keep doing my best!! btw this one is a little more edgy than the first but its from the pov of an upset 11 year old so what can u do really 8’) 
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter; Mentions of animal death.
> 
> POV: Zak.  
> 

* * *

It’s a hunting day. I _hate_ these days. People think I’m naive, and maybe I am, but I just can’t bring myself to accept that killing is a way of life. I don’t want to believe that my life is more valuable than an anyone else’s, even an animal’s. My connection with them is too deep. Well. . . Cryptids at least. Not something like a seal. Maybe that’s the part that means something. Maybe there really is a reason for the foodchain. After all, I don’t feel bad when we put out the mosquito zappers. I’ve never even _thought_ about going vegan. So why does it feel so much worse when instead of picking up beef at the supermarket, I’m carrying it fresh in my arms?  


More importantly, how did _humans_ end up on top of the chain when most of society topples over because they’re scared of a kid?  


I guess I’m not really a kid anymore though. At least, I’m trying not to be. When I think about being at home, watching tv with my brothers, I’d give anything for it. But I’m here, and I have to be strong if I want to see them again. Even when things started getting scary, when we had to split up, when my parents stopped responding, I never lost hope. My mom always raised me to look for the silver lining in things, and that if I keep my head up I’ll be ok.  


But she also told me that we can get through anything, so long as we have each other. . . What about when we _don’t_ have each other? Sure, I have Uncle Doyle and Zon. . . but they have about the same capacity for support. A.k.a., sitting in awkward silence, occasionally making a sympathetic noise.  


He’s trying his best, I can tell, but he’s just as ruthless and reckless as always. Usually with mom and dad, there’s more of a balance. Most of the time, I can’t tell if he wants me to toughen up or ease back. It’s hard to know what he’s thinking. He’ll try to do a backflip on a snowmobile going 90 miles per hour, but if you try to get him to talk about feelings he’s suddenly elusive. Being around an ancient cryptid anti-christ isn’t what scares him, no, It’s the concept of missing someone that has him sweating. We’re in the same boat there, or more like the same sinking ship. I just wish he wasn’t trying to keep it to himself.  


Casually the snowmobile grinds to a stop. We’re here faster than usual, I guess he wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to do this fast.  


“Get the bags ready.”  


Bag duty. Just like always. I want to do more, but when I see him pull the harpoon out my heart sinks. I stare at the frozen ground and my hands head towards our supplies. I stop about an inch away. My eyes dart back up. I can feel something. It’s close, and it’s watching us.  


“Zak?”  


It’s getting closer. For some reason, I no longer feel at the top of the foodchain.  


Seconds pass and it starts to feel far away, but not really. It’s as if it can still see us somehow. I look for the threat, but it’s traces are fading fast. My reaction feels overblown and I lower my guard.  


“. . . I thought I heard something.”  


“Uhh. . . Like a seal?”  


_Wow._  


“No, like a cr-”  


My heart jumps again. It’s circled back. I still can’t see it. Why can’t I see it. . . I look down. It’s not in front of us. It’s beneath.  


Suddenly it flies up at me, shattering the ice and rippling the water of the basin. I lose my balance and fall back onto the snow, before locking eyes with the creature. It’s angry. My body doesn’t want to move but as I see Doyle go under, I’m able to break into a dire sprint for the snowmobile. I shuffle around in the storage compartment, looking for the claw. I try not to carry it on me anymore. It’s a dead giveaway to locals that I’m the harbinger of the apocalypse or whatever. Seemed like a good idea, until now.  


As my hands clasp around it my eyes are immediately enveloped in a burning amber. With my confidence slowly crawling back, I turn to face the cryptid. It’s tall, much taller than a man, and even though it came from water, it’s covered in a thick brown fur. It bares its teeth at me. It wanted to claim this area as it’s territory, and it’s more than prepared to fight me for it. I raise my claw and concentrate.  


“We’re not trying to take anything from you, we just needed a seal. It’s uh. . . the foodchain, y’know?”  


It whines at me before curling into a defensive position. It’s hostile for sure, but mostly it seems. . . lost. Most of them are. Ever since Argost started name dropping Kur, it hasn’t just been humans freaking out. Cryptids keep finding me, Doyle jokingly calls them ‘my biggest fans’, but I don’t see it like that. It feels more like children getting in trouble and looking for their parent to rescue them, and while I definitely didn’t sign up to be a parent, I do feel responsible for them. After all, I’m destined to ‘lead’ them. I just hope it’s not in a evil dictator way.  


“HEY! This isn’t going any further until you save my uncle. _Then_ we can talk”  


I raise my claw higher, my eyes glow brighter as our connection grows stronger, I can tell it wants to understand me. A headache starts building, but I keep the connection. Eventually, and with much hesitation, it decides to back down. I watch it slip back into the water. Seconds start passing, which turn into minutes. My anxiety steadily grows. I decide to hold my breath until it returns. It makes me feel better, if I can do it, so can he. It seems like ages before the cryptid emerges, and proceeds to slide me a very wet, and very irritated, Doyle. I rush to his side as he gasps for air, which reminds me to exhale. His breathing is rushed and sporadic, but it’s better than not breathing at all. Next to me, the cryptid lets out an eery whistling sound. It wants to finish our negotiation, and words cannot express how not up for that I am right now.  


“Look, I have to get him inside, I’ll come back and help you later!”  


It bares its teeth again, letting out a snarl. Before it can approach me, I concentrate harder, repeating myself mentally till it starts to sinks in. The creature, looking just as tired as I am from this ordeal, glares at me and huffs before disappearing into the water. . . Oh god. I really am a parent. I just told that cryptid to go to it’s room.  


I focus on the matter at hand and drag Doyle towards the snowmobile. He’s absolutely freezing. His breathing has evened out but it’s still fast, choppy from shivering, and he doesn’t seem that responsive. His eyelids flutter when I say his name, but he doesn’t even stir.  


With a sigh I mount us both to the vehicle. The last time I tried to drive this thing, I ended up crashing through the shed and flying into a snowbank.  


_You get to be a man today,_ I tell myself. _You’re gonna learn how to drive. It’s easy, you just uh. . . turn it on and. . ._  


I can’t remember how to turn it on.  


I press a button randomly, and brace for impact.  


. . .  


Nothing. All right.  


I do the same to another button. Still, Nothing. I press a few more, flip a few switches, etc. Getting antsy, I pull a chord and finally hear the engine rev to life. Hah! Step one complete!  


I think back as hard as I can, and remember seeing Doyle press on the handlebars. I try leaning forward to replicate it. It starts moving. I’m doing it!  


I quickly pick up speed. Now for step three: Steering.  


. . . Howww did he steer it again?  


Involuntarily, I start zig zagging. I rush to slam the other handlebar, assuming it must be the brake. My assumptions are good and we come to a violent halt that nearly sends me flying.  


“S--Stop--God-- Y--You’re G--Gonna kill us.”  


I whip around.  


“Doyle!”  


Though barely conscious, he places his hands next to mine.  


“You gotta- t--turn it. . . Like a s-steering wheel.”  


Slowly, I press the throttle again, tilting it back and forth gently. My mario kart skills shine through. I’m actually driving!  


“L--lean with the turns.”  


I smile. “C’mon Doyle, don’t be a backseat driver.”  


He lets out a shaky laugh. The secret step four of driving a snowmobile that’s often forgotten; Break the tension so you don’t spend the entire drive home worrying about your only immediate family dying on you, and leaving you to your own devices in the Alaskan bush.  


Once I get my bearings, I head home with no problem, after coming here so many times I recognize every landmark. Even if I needed help, I think I might know where we are better than Doyle right now, which would make me feel super cool if he wasn’t so out of it because he’s. Yknow. Dying.  


“We’re almost home.” I say.  


“. . . What? How fast are you going?”  


He speaks shakily, but the shivering has stopped. I can’t tell if that’s a good sign or not.  


“Oh, mister _70 miles per hour_ is concerned?”  


He rolls his eyes at me. Eventually, I come to a rather abrupt stop near our cabin. My driving definitely still has room for improvement. I start helping Doyle inside, practically dragging him. Zon trills at us with concern when we enter.  


“It’s okay girl.” I pat her comfortingly. “We just. . . hit a snag.” Really, a snag hit us. A tall, furry, angry snag that wants me to be it's real estate agent.  


Doyle stumbles to his bedroom, stripping his coat off and dropping it in the hall. I go to the closet and start pulling out blankets, turning around when I hear a small thump. He’s kneeling in the doorway and looks like he’s going to be sick.  


“I’m fine I just. . . want to sleep for a while.” He says while practically crawling to the couch, before letting his body drop onto it haphazardly.  


“Wake me up around 6 so I can start dinner. . .” He says with his eyes shut, it’s like he’s already asleep. I lay out a blanket on him and sit next to Zon.  


I check on him a lot, making sure he’s still breathing and all that. Mostly I sit and think, idly stroking the back of Zon’s neck. A few times I try and think of a plan for if he doesn’t wake up, just in case, but I don’t get very far. The reality starts to hit me that even though I can drive a snowmobile, and I don’t cry over hunting anymore, I’m not ready to be on my own yet.  


I look towards the clock. 4:30. He hasn’t even turned.  


Maybe it’s better to distract myself. My mind wanders to the rest of my family. When things like this happen I almost feel bad, I’m sure they’re just as worried about us as we are about them, and I hate giving them a reason to be, even if they don’t know it’s happening. My heart tends to race when I imagine what kind of scenarios they might have found themselves in, I try to tell myself it’s just paranoia, but then I look at us. Things aren’t too optimistic here right now.  


4:30 turns to 5, which eventually turns to 5:30. Distracting definitely isn’t working. I can’t take it anymore, I nudge him awake as gently as I can.  


“Doyle?”  


No response.  


I lean down and check his breathing again. He’s okay. . . . Well actually, he’s _alive,_ and I’m starting to think I should raise my standards.  


“Doyle!” I shake him. He moans, but won’t budge.  


I sit on the floor with a heavy sigh. I feel like screaming. Not even to wake him up, I’m just at my wits end. If my mom was here, she’d know exactly what was wrong. I have no way to help him. Not to mention, we’re in the middle of nowhere. The closest village is in Teller, 30 miles away from our cabin.  


I take another look at him.  


. . . If I drive 70 miles per hour, I can make it there in less than 30 minutes.


	3. The girl with the tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zak finds someone who can help him, but how close can he get without revealing any secrets?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy crap im still going 8’) these chapters keep getting longer and longer and i cant tell if thats good or bad lol but anyways im really REALLY excited for this one, as i finally get to introduce an oc i’ve been working on! [heres some concept art of her,](http://bibbleart.tumblr.com/post/173313246571/original-character-for-an-upcoming-chapter-in-my) any more content I make for this fic i’ll be sure to link in the ANs, thank you for reading, hope you enjoy!  
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: none!  
> POV: Zak (will probably switch back to Doyle next chapter!)  
> 

* * *

I adjust my coat hood for what feels like the 50th time. Whenever I walk through town, I have to make sure my hair isn’t showing. These people don’t seem to know my face, but traits like white bangs and glowing orange eyes have quickly become a Kur calling card. I carefully scan the buildings as I pass them, looking for anything that says “doctor” or “medical”. I don’t have any money. . . or an insurance card. . . or insurance now, I think. . . But I know I have to try _something._  


Every glance sent my way makes me paranoid. People have a million reasons to stare, I’m a foreign 11 year old who drove a snowmobile here and is now walking the streets of Alaska by myself, but the thought that they know what I am is all that can run through my mind. It makes my heart pound. I can’t imagine what would happen if someone spotted me. The last time I was surrounded by people that knew my secret. . .  


My mind goes back to that night my entire world changed. I had no way of knowing at the time that it wouldn’t just be my world that’d fall apart. Argost had been building up Kur for a long time, gaining a following of what seemed like religious fanatics convinced that Kur would bring the end of the humanity. I guess in a way, I did.  


He had the entire world in the palm of his hand, using children's media as a way to share information, acting as a prophet and brainwashing people. It’s like if Sesame Street was suddenly run by a cult. You'd think people would look at themselves and wonder, but here we are, months later, and his word is still god.  


When he felt it was finally time to point the finger at us, we saw it coming. We were on the run for weeks, dodging attacks from scared civilians left and right. We were just stopping for supplies, nobody expected a crowd to form that fast. People were talking back and forth so quickly, both parties trying to rationalize, but it wasn’t enough. Fear is stronger than logic. Everyone that night felt they had somebody they had to protect, I try not to blame them. After all, there’s nothing in the prophecy of Kur that says, _'Hey, Don’t worry, he’s actually not that bad of a guy. He's super chill.'_  


Most were terrified of us. When things got violent, I couldn't figure out where the anger was coming from. It wasn’t till recently that I started to understand that deep down, it was fear as well, blanketed by survival instinct. It’s such a strange situation, watching a crowd rip a child from it’s mother, and then cower from the child.  


The scariest part of it all was getting separated. I held a grudge against Doyle for as long as I could for actually listening when my parents told us to take the Griffin and run, that they’d take the airship and create a diversion, meet up with the secret scientists and ask them for help, but apparently ‘as long as I can’ is just over a week before loneliness finally got to me. Not to mention guilt. I think I actually tried to hit him while we were flying away. I can’t really remember, I was crying and could hardly think. Come to think of it, he might have been too.  


“Hey! You lost little guy?”  


I must have jumped 2 feet in the air.  


“N-No. . . Oh, I mean, Yes? Uh, I’m looking for a doctor. A. . . free one, preferably.”  


The man before me chuckled before patting me on the head. I immediately gripped my hood. 90% of the world fears my very name, and the 10% that don’t know me still patronizes me like I’m 5. _Incredible._  


“No money eh? Try Ila, she’s one of the best and has been known to take other forms of payment from people like that. It doesn’t mean she’s cheap, though.”  


“You realize Nanouk, That if you’d just stop telling people they don’t have to pay me, I might not have to ask for so much.”  


A female voice spoke up behind me. I turned and met her hardened brown eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back into a wavy ponytail, some curled pieces sticking out at the front, obviously not on purpose, but the way that they fell across her temples looked like they were meant to be there. She had 3 dark blue lines going down her chin, a tattoo trend I had seen around here before. I’m sure it means something, but I'm guessing now isn’t the best time to ask the locals about their culture.  


“I need your help!”  


“Allright, what’d you break.”  


“No, not me, my uncle. He was hunting and he fell into the basin. He’s breathing, but it’s been hours and he won’t wake up.”  


She furrowed her eyebrows mischievously and looked past me, towards the man with the condescending tone, but hopefully good advice.  


“ _Mhm._ Yeah, yknow, I’ve actually seen a _lot_ of cases like that this year.”  


The man scoffed.  


“Okay, first of all, I didn’t _fall in_ , I jumped. It was a dare, and I made 50 bucks that night!”  


She rolled her eyes, but promptly placed her hands on my shoulders and leaned in.  


“50 bucks that went to me when I had to treat him for frostbite.”  


We began walking before the man could aggravate the conversation anymore. I smiled at their antics, but it was mostly because I was being treated as an equal by an adult for the first time in a _very_ long time.  


“So, where’s your uncle now?”  


“About 30 miles southeast.”  


“Yikes. How’d you get here?”  


“Snowmobile.”  


“Oh, great, if we drive fast we can get this over with quickly.”  


_Huh, sounds like someone I know._  


“Okay, should I go get it and pick you up-”  


She clicked her tongue at me.  


“Nooo way. If I’m doing a house call, _I’m_ driving.”  


* * *

We arrived faster than expected. She was a much better driver than me, so that probably helped. As soon as we dismount and enter the house, I hear a familiar concerned trill. Oh _craaap._  


“What’s that?”  


“Uh. . . Just our pet bird. . . Don’t worry, she’s in the bedroom, she won’t bother you.”  


“A pet bird in Alaska? No wonder she sounds so unhappy.”  


Hah, you have no idea.  


I watch her circle the couch and look down at Doyle intently. He hasn’t moved an inch. Knowing all I can do at this point is let her work, I start paying attention to my surroundings. Is there anything else I need to hide besides Zon? Are there any Kur clues I’m missing? What will I do if she finds out?  


“So, is he a heavy sleeper?” I watch as she lifts his arm up and lets it drop, kind of comically. All he does is let out a quiet groan.  


“Oh, yeah, I used to prank him in his sleep all the time, but he usually wakes up if I yell or shake him.”  


She pulled out a blood pressure machine. Mom has one of those. She rummaged for a second before pulling out a stethoscope. Mom has one of those too. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had every single item this woman has packed in her medical bag.  


_Uuugh, not again,_ I think to myself. _Stop using family as a distraction, everyone’s in the same boat. You’re just gonna give yourself anxiety. Deep breaths, maybe later you can meditate, how mom taught you- Ugh, **stop it!**_  


Thankfully, Ila starts talking again, shaking me from my thoughts.  


“I’m pretty sure he’s just got cold water shock.”  


“You mean like hypothermia?”  


“No, that would require a much longer time of exposure. This is a stage or two before that, not as dangerous.”  


Just as soon as she got everything out, she puts her equipment away. All that and she diagnosed him in 5 minutes?  


“His blood pressure is low and his breathing sounds off, like he might have inhaled some water. He should be all right, we just have to watch him. He needs to sleep it off. He probably feels like sh-. . . probably feels bad.”  


I look at her, confused.  


“? Oh, don’t worry, my uncle cusses all the time.”  


“Ah. I see.”  


“Just the other day, he said-”  


“ _Don’t move._ ”  


“Doyle?!”  


I look over to see him propped weakly on his left arm, blankets on the floor beside him, and his hunting harpoon aimed at her back. His eyes are glassy and sunken, he still looks as if a strong gust of wind could knock him over.  


“Why would you bring a stranger here? You _know_ better Zak, You _Know_ not to trust-”  


“No, it's fine, she’s here to help!”  


“I kinda agree with him. You should really be more careful with who you talk to, some people here know more about Kur than they happen to let on.”  


Ignoring the deafening quiet that followed those words, she casually turned around and lowered Doyle’s harpoon.  


“Please don’t. I didn’t bring the right equipment for stab wounds.”  


Doyle and I sat in stunned silence, unsure of how to proceed.  


“How. . . . . . . How did you know?”  


“Hair.”  


“. . . When did you see my-”  


“You had on an unbuttoned hood on a snowmobile going over 50 miles per hour.”  


I grimaced. The only person I’ve ever ridden the snowmobile with was Doyle, I must not have realized. . .  


“So you’re not. . . scared?”  


“No, not particularly.” She scooped up a blanket off the floor and began swaddling it around Doyle. “But I’m ready to diagnose harpoon boy with a case of Chronic Dumbass if he doesn’t start bundling up.”  


He stared at her wide eyed, flustered enough to drop his weapon, but wore an intense expression as he was still trying to process the situation.  


“Look. . .” She straightened herself and turned to face both of us. “I’m not gonna sit here and pretend the people around here are saints who wouldn’t freak out if they knew Kur was in their hometown, but people were definitely more scared when nobody knew who you were. When you find out this apocalyptic prophecy monster is a child with a family, it makes it a lot harder for good people to see it that way. Besides, fear’s never done me any good, so don’t worry so much about it, my lips are sealed.”  


What I was hearing made perfect sense, but I still couldn’t believe it. All this time, I kept hoping if we looked hard enough we might be able to find allies who could see that I’m not a threat, and that hope had just been starting to fade in me. I tried to smile at Doyle, who didn’t see it as he was still assessing her, probably trying to see if she had any weapons.  


“But if you don’t mind. . . I have a question. . . Are you truly a ‘ruler of the cryptids’? Do they. . . listen to you?”  


I shot another glance at Doyle, who was actually looking my way this time. I could tell by his face that he’d kill me if I gave her any information right now. Too bad he’s got Almost Hypothermia and can’t even get out of bed.  


“. . . Most of the time.”  


“. . . Do you think, instead of payment, you could do a job for me?”  


“What kind of job.” Doyle sighed out flatly while rubbing his forehead. Just as I thought, too tired to actually get mad. For now at least.  


“There’s a local cryptid that- well, frankly it’s not supposed to be local, it’s supposed to be on the other side of Alaska. It’s called the Kushtaka, and it’s creating a lot of problems for hunters.”  


Doyle let out a dry laugh.  


“Uh, does it look like a giant otter?”  


Her eyes widened.  


“ _That’s_ why you fell in the basin? Jesus, I didn’t realize it was already that close. We have to try and stop it before it reaches Teller.”  


“Oh, that won’t be a problem. If there’s one thing I got from our fight, it’s that the Kushtaka wasn’t planning on leaving the basin. It’s probably my fault, ever since Kur became common knowledge cryptids have been going crazy seeking me out, from miles, even continents away. The Imuruk basin is less than 5 miles from here.”  


“Huh. . . So, I guess you really are their leader?”  


I nodded hesitantly.  


“Then, let’s see if you’re a good one.”  



	4. Something old, Something new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend appears, along with some old feelings, and some new fears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors note: hello again!! sorry this took so long, times have been tough lately and overall there were more important things going on that i had to deal with <8’D tw dark stuff ahead but;;; basically my mom was hospitalized for a suicide attempt about a month ago, she’s all right and might even be returning home soon, but i’m definitely not used to this much time alone! It’s been so quiet so ive been trying to keep myself busy with different projects (not to mention artfight just started!) and i feel really good about finally returning for this fourth chapter. dont wanna be sappy but its really keeping me afloat to be able to create for people right now and have so much support on this fic, so thank you all so much for reading. (150+ hits!!!) i hope you all enjoy what i have planned! 
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: none! 
> 
> POV: Doyle

* * *

I sigh a breath of consciousness, gentle rays of sun peeking through the curtains and enveloping me in the light of morning. 

Fuck, it’s hot. 

I force myself up and let the blankets slide haphazardly off the couch. My arms seem to weigh a thousand pounds as I peel my stupid turtleneck off of my stupid sweaty body. I feel like shit.

“I feel like shit.” I groan to nobody in particular as I pinch the bridge of my nose, nausea welling in my stomach. My surroundings are a blur but I can tell I’m home, though I hardly remember how. The fireplace is going. Did Zak light it himself?

Oh, right.

_Oh, right._

I involuntarily let out what Zak calls a ‘dad sound’ as I force myself to stand up, my body aching. At least it seems my legs can finally carry me again. They lead me towards the kitchen, where I can hear Zak and ~~the stranger who shouldn’t be trusted~~ the mysterious woman conversing.

“-She’s surprisingly tame.”

“Yeah, probably only because you made her food.”

Zak hands her ~~the imminent betrayer~~ a piece of a pancake, which she teases before tossing into the air. Zon catches it and downs it in one gulp.

“You gotta stop feeding her carbs, she still has to fly y’know.”

He spins around to face me. Zon, despite being a bird, is giving me hardcore bitch face. I suppose it’s deserved.

“Doyle! You’re awake!”

My eyes instinctively go to ~~the threat~~ and I shoot her a playful, but biting smile. 

“Not the only one, apparently.”

“. . . I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.”

She sticks her hand out in a display of pacifism, but her expression is as closed off as mine. At least we have one thing in common, neither of us trust each other.

“Ila, local healer, blasphemer for Kur.”

I decide to give in, clasping her palm in mine, but keeping my shoulder cold. I should be thanking her for saving my life. I should be offering her something in return. But regardless, the world turned its back on us a long time ago, and I don’t have the luxury of inviting people into my home like it’s a sleepover.

“Doyle. Uncle of Kur. Chronic Dumbass.”

Zak shuffles awkwardly. The air is tense. Not the kind you could cut with a butter knife. You’d at least need a power saw to get through this level of passive aggression. 

“We’re heading out soon to search for the Kushtaka, you should come along if you can keep up.”

Eventually, I turn my back to her so I can start getting ready. Even though she’s not in my line of sight, my guard is up. 

“Yeah, believe it or not, I can handle myself.”

“. . . Well, since you gave me the ‘or not’ option, just try not to fall into a basin this time.”

Before I can make a snappy comeback, Zak suddenly speaks up.

“Hey, wouldn’t you say he made quite the _ice-breaker?_ ”

Ila and I shared our first moment of solidarity since I had awoken as we stared at the young comedian with pity. Zak lets out a fading chuckle, obviously disappointed with his audience, but moreso relieved to have stopped the bickering.

With my supplies together and my winter gear on, I head for the front door, my body now finally in tune with my mind. I nearly choke as it swings open and I’m met with a swarm of mosquitos. Goddamn. Alaskan. **Bush.**

“Ugh, hold on, hold on-” I back up and slam it shut to start a quick scavenge for some bug spray.

“Stand back, I’m gonna mace these bitches.”

“ _Please_ be careful.”

After a moment, my hand brushes cold metal. I grab the can and shake, my other hand reaching for the doorknob.

“Aren’t I always?”

Swinging the door open for the second time, I let loose. What I hear is not the buzzing of insects, but a pained old man cough.

Followed by angry, Russian swearing.

“ **Hoooooly _SHIT._ **”****

********

****

Zak and Ila peek around on either side of me to catch a glimpse at the man before me, now dying of Raid poisoning, as he attempts to straighten himself up.

“Van rook?! What the _hell_ are you doing here?”

“I heard you’ve been. . .” He clears his throat one last time. “needing assistance.”

“Yeah, for like, 6 months. What made you think to come here?”

“I was here when you bought this decrepit cabin, dummy.”

“Uhuh, _And_ , if I remember correctly, you made fun of me the entire time for spending unnecessary money.”

“Ah, yes, yes, let’s save the I-Told-You-So’s for later.”

“So. . . who is this, exactly?” Ila finally says, her voice thickly coated in distaste.

“Oh, This is my grandpa.”

“OH, **_shut_** the fuck up.”

“‘Shuht theh fahk ap’. C’mon gramps, hit me with another one of your old timey sayings.”

“. . . If you are _done_ , Are you going to let me in or not? In case you haven’t noticed, it’s freezing.”

“Uh, no, actually.”

“Wow, That’s fine, I’ll just go home-”

“I _mean_ , we were just leaving. We gotta go hunt down an otter.”

“An otter? What, are you downsizing?”

Ila steps past me, standing forcefully in the doorframe.

“This otter is responsible for at least 4 missing persons and countless injuries. And it’s 8 feet tall.” 

“Now THAT sounds like the Saturdays I know. Count me in.”

“Sorry, only room for 3.” I look at Zak. “Well, 2 and a half.” 

“Oy, smart guy, how you think I got here?”

I turn my attention to the vehicle parked near mine and exhale jealousy in breath form, like a bitter fucking dragon. This bastard wouldn’t pay for my bus fares on missions, but he went and bought a snowmobile. _Specifically_ a better one than I have. _Fucker._

“I can drive Zak.” Ila interjects, not being very subtle that she doesn’t want to get stuck with him. I have to admit, she’s smart. I oblige, waving goodbye to zon and shutting the door tight before climbing on the back of Van Rook’s ~~stupid~~ snowmobile.

“So. . . no offense, but did you _really_ come all this way for free?”

He half sighs, half groans. 

“These times are _crazy._ Money isn’t as reliable anymore. If you knew what I had gone through to get the snowmobile. . .”

I watch as Ila brings the engine to life, despite having only rode it once she seems to have a firm understanding of the controls. 

“So what, are you just bored?”

“Hah, yeah, I guess.”

I catch her eye, launching an unintentional stare down before she takes off.

I guess I’m bored too.

Before Van Rook can sit down, I slide to the front seat.

“What are-”

“Get in the back.”

“No, _Nooo way_ , you are _not_ racing in this-”

“Get in the back or I’m taking off and leaving you here.”

He gives in, albeit with a dismayed look on his face.

“Doyle, I’m not fucking around, you break it-”

“Yeah yeah, I buy it.”

My stomach coils up into my chest as we launch forward. The damn thing has twice the speed and power that mine does. This’ll be over fast.

I quickly catch up to her and hold our pace for a moment. Before I can taunt to get her going, she makes a violent swerve left, forcing me to quickly pull back. Zak lets out an excited whoop. 

Leaning as hard as I can, I start a hot pursuit after her. Van Rook’s yelling something. Even if the wind wasn’t pounding at my eardrums, I wouldn’t be able to hear it. I haven’t felt anything like this in a long time. I’ve missed danger, not that we don’t have plenty of it these days. I missed the kind that I knew I could get out of as fast as I got into it. I have to be the adult now, a caretaker, and a protector. I’d never complain, but I’ve been missing this kind of rush. I missed safe danger. 

I blink the accumulating snow off my eyelashes and notice a nicely formed snowbank up ahead on my side. I hit the gas so hard we almost fall into a backflip. Van Rook’s definitely yelling something now. My lungs flutter as we glide into the air, the zero-g feeling making my heart pound. It’s incredible how heavy I felt this morning, and now I feel practically weightless.

_Slam._

My chest pounds into the hood as we land cockeyed, tip to ground, and end up stuck on our side. I see Ila fly past, if only for a moment, before the snow she’s trailing blinds me.

“Congratulations apprentice, now you’ve bought yourself _two_ snowmobiles.”

Without meaning to, I smile. I still feel weightless.

* * *

{POV SWITCH: Zak.}

* * *

“Should we go back and help them?”

We turn into a hard stop at the edge of the basin.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine. . . . . . Allright, if they aren’t, I brought a first aid kit.”

I watch her eyes glide over the perimeter, surveying as much water and ice as possible.

“So, wanna call our little friend over?”

“Yeah, I’ll try.”

I pull the claw out from the back of the snowmobile, giving it a tap before shooting it open to get a stronger connection. The feeling that I’m being watched washes over me rather fast. Got him. Focusing my thoughts, I try to lure him closer. I can’t completely explain the moments I spend trying to make them understand. It’s a lot like holding your hand out invitingly, or smiling at a stranger, inside a person’s head. 

When I see two large black eyes peering at me curiously from the edge of the ice, I smile. It’s pupils are as round as marbles, it’s somewhat reminiscent of a cat that wants to play. I can tell that he remembers me, and my promise to help him.

“What's that over there?”

The startling sound of two fishermen approaching makes my heart skip a beat. Maybe a couple beats. Honestly, it might have just stopped all together. I frantically shove the claw under my coat and zip it tight, adjusting my hood in the same motion. The Kushtaka has a largely opposite reaction to it’s new audience, rearing itself up into a defensive snarl.

“Stand back-”

“No!” Ila and I scream in unison as one of them brandishes their spear. My hearts beating again for sure, at probably 100 miles per hour. I know in the back of my mind, I could just pull the claw back out. I could calm it down, save the fishermen and the cryptid, but odds are, they’d turn their spears towards me. 

“I said, stand back!”

My hands feel stiff. I can’t figure out which is worse, letting humans kill a cryptid, or letting a cryptid kill a human. I never had to think about it before. I wanna think they’re the same. They’re equal, right? They both just want to exist, and will do anything to ensure that. So what do I choose? Or do I sacrifice myself, after everything everyone's done to protect me?

“ _We have it under control._ ” Ila says sternly while putting her arms out.

“Please, step away from it!”

Okay, I’m kur. That’s a fact that I’ve been trying to deny for months. But if I let anyone die for my sake today, then there’s _really_ no denying it. Shakily, I take a deep inhale and reach for my zipper, my eyes taking on that familiar dusty orange hue. They meet the olive eyes of the Kushtaka, the glow barely starting to reflect. Without even needing a full connection yet, we can tell in our gaze how scared the other one is. Inside of my jacket, my hand reaches the claw.

**_Bang!_ **

A cloud of smoke rushes over the icey waters, blinding everyone in the area. By the time it’s dissipated, my connection, and the cryptid, is long gone. I turn and see Van Rook and Doyle standing there, looking just as frazzled as we are.

“Incredible. . . He scared the Kushtaka off!”

Ila steps forward, gently pulling me with her, I sense so not as to leave me with strangers. Funny, considering we were strangers yesterday.

“Yes yes, three cheers for the white guy,” Her sentence ends under her breath.

“ _Let’s go._ ” 

“Right.” Doyle turns to the fishermen. “You guys uh. . . have fun. . . . . fishing. We’ll take care of it from here.” 

Before they cant protest again, we start walking the border of the basin and get as far away as possible.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“It’s heading further inland, It’ll most likely stop at Mary’s Igloo.”

I squint.

“. . . Who’s Mary?”

She pats my shoulder warmly.

“It’s just the name of the area.”

“Oh. . . “

“There used to be villages surrounding it, but it’s mostly abandoned now, occasionally used as a fishing camp. After Alaska got colonized--Thank you, Van Rook--Everyone moved up to Teller or Nome.”

“Okay, just because I’m from russia doesn’t mean I _personally_ colonized Alaska.”

Doyle suddenly leans forward, cutting between them.

“Sorry, just overheard that last bit, you personally colonized Alaska?”

I take the opportunity to join in on the joke, shaking my head with faux disappointment.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I hate you all. _Especially_ this new one.” Hes says, pointing a finger towards Ila.

“Wow, that hurts all five of my feelings. Anyways, if we can get back to the snowmobiles and head northeast, we should make it within the hour.”

“Just remember, we _can't_ let it get away this time.” Doyle interjects. “We’ve been dealing with this thing for way too long anyways. Last thing we need is another cryptid pet.”

“Aw, what, you don’t think mom would go for a giant otter?”

We share a quick laugh, short enough that I don’t realize till after we stop, that was the first time in months that one of us has brought up mom with a smile.

We silently mount the snowmobile.


	5. Tunnel Vision Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More mysteries unravel as strangers appear and Doyle is forced to make some tough calls, while the chase for the Kushtaka races on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors note: hello! sorry these updates are taking so long now, shit’s really been hitting the fan in my life :’] not to be fake deep but in the past few months, theres been people ive lost, people ive gotten back, and people ive finally let go of. thank you all so much for sticking around through this, to make up for the long pause i decided to make this a double update! And to top it all off, heres some side content ive been working on, a [playlist](https://8tracks.com/bibbleboo/human-v-humanity-insp), and some [more concept art](http://bibbleart.tumblr.com/post/178563081056/some-human-v-humanity-chapter-5-6-concept-art-i) ! i hope you enjoy what i have planned. :) 
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: Mild violence
> 
> POV: Doyle

* * *

“. . . Uhm. . . Maybe it’s a sword?” 

“Yeah, I see a man with a sword.”

“What are all those squiggly lines?”

“Looks like a snake.”

“No, on the other side.”

“Oh. . . Water, maybe?”

“I think it’s upside down.”

  


Our four curious pairs of eyes collectively skim a large rock structure, covered in runes and symbols, looking for something we can make sense of. The wall is tall and flashy, flashy enough to catch our attention from at least a hundred yards away and momentarily distract us from finding a giant otter. Y’know, like we needed any more surprises today.

As I lean in for a closer look, my foot touches something small and metallic, an eery screech on the icey skin of the ground alerting me to it’s presence. I quickly retrieve and inspect the object closer. It’s slightly hooked, and extremely sharp. With the shine of leather on a piece leading up to it, I recognize it as the tail end to some kind of whip. 

“Aaallright, now I’m _really_ confused.” 

“Yeah, I thought you said everyone out here had moved to city.” Van rook states, crossing his arms inquisitively at Ila.

“Well, obviously not _everyone._ ”

Zak hesitantly inches his hand towards the wall, afraid to actually touch it.

“Is it inuit?”

She shakes her head.

“Definitely not. Looks Egyptian or something, I dunno, but it definitely wasn’t here before.”

"Then we should probably keep going, in case someone comes back for their. . . whip and giant rock.”

“Doyle’s right. We’re still on the Kushtaka’s trail, he should be right over-. . .”

As if on cue, he stops dead in his tracks, with that vacant stare, yet this time, it’s lacking an orange hue.

“Is it him?”

“Yeah. . . but. . .”

“. . . What does ‘but’ mean?”

He points right past me with an uneasy look creeping over his face, and when I discover what’s behind me, I quickly match it. There in the distance stands two shadowed human figures. Covering their faces are ribbed masks with four golden tiers, wrapping around their heads and upturning into horns. Their determined stance makes my blood run cold. My question is no longer how Zak saw them, but frankly, how _they_ saw _us._

“Get behind me.”

“No, Doyle, we _have_ to go after the Kushtaka, we’ve already lost it twice, we’re so close!”

My brows knit together. He has a point, coming out into the open so many times for one cryptid is a risk I’m not sure I want to keep taking. We got lucky with Ila, we almost bit it with the fishermen, I have a feeling our luck’s running out. I turn to the rest of the group.

“You and Ila go for the otter, Van Rook and I will take care of these guys.”

He gives me a determined nod, as if he’s trying to cement his goal in his mind before taking off. Once they’re both out of our sight, we advance on the mysterious figures. As soon as I take my first step they try to bolt, moving as fast as the wind, and for good measure, quickly splitting between two large icey formations jutting up from the ground. Their speed is surprising, but doesn’t phase me. Van Rook and I, after working together for so long, are able to give each other silent commands to divide and conquer. I sprint towards the left of the ice and begin tracking my target.

The scenery doesn’t help me much. My breath creates clouds that obscure my vision as I try to violently smack frozen branches away from hitting my face. I have boots made for snowy traction, but it doesn’t stop me from getting tripped up by the occasional ice slick. By the time we reach the opening at the end of the wall, he’s mere feet in front of me. 

With a forceful leap, I tackle the man to the ground, his strange mask flying off and rolling through the snow. Frankly, his appearance is almost as hard to make sense of as the runes upon that wall. His eyes, filled with fear, and _light pink_ , are staring me down. His shoulder length black hair is messily spilling over his jacket, and his face is dusted with freckles, implying an amount of sun this area doesn't often receive through it's winter clouds. I’m sure he couldn’t be a day over 20.

“Please, I’m a servant of Kur, if you let me go I can help you!”

My grip stays tight, mostly out of utter confusion. . . . What the fuck does that mean? ‘Servant of Kur’? Is he crazy? Am I supposed to trust that? The only reason I’m not still trying to eradicate Kur is because it _happened_ to be my 11 year old nephew, what does he have to worship?

“. . . What the hell are you talking about. . .? Look kid, we don’t need any help.”

Before I can overthink his words any more, my gaze shifts to a glint of light coming from his hand.

“Then stay out of my way.”

The sound of cloth ripping echoes through the air as I’m barely able to dodge his knifes jab. I check myself for blood, and when I find nothing but a large slit in my coat, my exterior hardens. Ok, kid or not, I’m gonna kick this guys ass.

He rushes me and I rush back, managing to land a decent punch to the jaw before he hunches over and tackles me to the frosted ground.

“You have no idea the power you have the privilege to care for. . .”

With a push and a leg swipe, I manage to roll on top of him and get a grasp on his arms.

“The dude’s eleven, he can’t even beat me at Mario Kart!”

He lets out a growl, which should have signaled to me this guy’s about to do something ridiculous, and lets the knife fall from his hand. It clatters onto the ice as he braces himself against the ground. In an instant, our skulls clack, ringing in my head as loud as a gunshot.

A headbutt. Of course.

Before I can figure out where I am, he’s on top of me and has his hands around my neck. I struggle, attempting to ease myself up and away from him before I realize there’s no ground where I’m going. I try to turn my eyes up as far as I can and see that my head is dangling a few inches over the side of a not so steep, but rather jagged ice cliff.

This is bad. Also, pretty embarrassing, this guy’s the size of a cheerleader and he’s got me pinned. But I guess I should be upset because I’m in danger, or whatever. 

When I manage to regain my grip on his arms, he pulls yet another knife, keeping one hand against my throat. Are you serious, he’s choking me _one-handed_? 

My eyes start to squint as the contrast in my world goes up, tunnel vision quickly settling in. I struggle harder but it only seeps my final breath away from me sooner. Okay, this might actually be bad. Everything is hazy, but I realize, at the end of the tunnel there is something I can make out. I know it’s not real, but it’s something to hold onto.

Someone.

With long white hair.

_Spprt!_

In one fluid motion, I seem to have grabbed the knife he’s abandoned and clumsily slashed his side open. Warm droplets of blood spray across the icey earth and myself, a good amount of it settling on my face and neck. _Eeeech._

His eyes widen with pain as he finally loosens his clutch. Once I’m finally able to take in a gasp, I rush to stand and flee. Kinda stupid in hindsight. As an ancient deity Jordin Sparks once said, how am I supposed to breathe with no air. My lungs seize in the sudden cold and I fall, back against the ice wall, having to rest a moment and let my oxygen-starved body get it’s bearings. When my eyes focus again, I see that he’s now laying, clutching his side, and eerily close to the ice cliff.

God, It would be too easy.

I shake my thoughts and decide to dart again, this time managing to keep my feet going. The continued fog of my breath reassures me that I have enough air again. I can feel his blood drying down on my skin, but it’s a concept I’m pushing to the back of my head. 

As I come to a sliding stop around the corner we entered, I almost slam right into Van Rook. He’s bent over, practically heaving.

“She got away, I couldn’t even see her by the time I reached the. . .”

His eyes eventually gaze upon my rather alarming appearance, and per usual he responds as nonchalantly as possible.

“. . . Uech. . . Somebody’s going to need a new coat.”


	6. Tunnel Vision Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More mysteries unravel as strangers appear and Doyle is forced to make some tough calls, while the chase for the Kushtaka races on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors note: (same as previous chapter!)
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: Animals in distress
> 
> POV: Zak

* * *

I’m running as fast as my legs will carry me to reach the Kushtaka, but he doesn’t seem the same as he was before. He doesn’t trust us. Fear. Confusion. Panic. That’s all I can sense, all his playful curiosity, and even his goal - find a new home - seems to be put on standby. He’s terrified of something.

I watch him shoot into a narrow ice cavern in a blur of brown fur, Ila and I following in hot pursuit. When I get close enough, I use the claw as a vault and slide right in, following his shadow. 

Once I’m inside, I stare up in awe at the size of the underground cave. There’s icicles hanging from the ceiling of the structure, illuminated by the light that’s barely pouring in through the opening. I see piles of foliage strewn about in the corners, and from what I know about animals, I can tell it’s a nest for warmth. This must be the Kushtaka’s den. 

Ever so slightly, one of the nests jostles. I can tell he’s in there, but I’m cautious as I approach. I can hear Ila climbing down the steep entrance of the cavern, so I try to make him feel safe before we corner him. 

“It’s okay. . . We’re here to help, remember us?”

A moment passes, then the nest moves again. I can spot two black beady eyes staring at me. I take a few slow steps closer, making sure to watch those eyes for any signs of malice. 

“Eaaasy-”

I startle when out of nowhere he jumps to let out a hiss, a warning for me to get back. I stop dead in my tracks. He’s out in the open now, and his appearance makes me swallow hard. He’s not in good shape at all, his skin in many places is tattered, fur bloodied, eyes tired and sunken. He’s been _attacked_. His behavior isn’t because he doesn’t ‘trust us’, he’s in fight-or-flight mode. I swallow once more, and against my better judgement, slowly raise my arm out for him, trying for a connection.

“It’s _okay_. . . you’re safe now.”

I can hear footsteps, meaning Ila’s finally found her way into the cavern. I keep my position but quickly shoot a look behind me.

“Careful!” I say, giving her a gesture to slow down. “He’s pretty riled up.”

“But-”

“Don’t worry, I can calm him down.”

The face she makes in response is strange. It reminds me of when Doyle was first getting adjusted to the family. When I told him I could handle something most 11 year old’s couldn’t, he’d always look as if he didn’t believe me, but like he wanted me to try anyways. It was forceful trust in place of a lack of trust, something mom and dad didn’t even seem comfortable giving me until I was a certain age. It was a silent permission to let me put myself in danger, but a promise they’d be right there to get me out of it. 

My thoughts turn back to the task at hand while I try for a stronger connection.

“Please, let us help you. . . we’re gonna get you somewhere safer. You just have to let us fix you up first.”

His motives can be read as nearly the opposite of that expression. He doesn’t want to trust me, he doesn’t want to trust anyone, but he knows there’s no one else who can help him. He caves, pompously lying down, much like a cat who’s trying to act like it was his idea all along.

“This is Ila, she’s a doctor. She can heal you.”

He stares her down, before just as dramatically turning away and letting a wounded paw dangle close enough for her to access. I watch her as she gingerly starts dressing quite a large cut. Now, her face appears to be sour, and somewhat confused. It’s kind of amusing.

“What’s wrong?”

“This is. . . definitely the first time I’ve attempted this on an animal, let alone a legally unclassified one.”

I hold back a laugh.

“Well, I’m sure he appreciates your effort.”

For a moment she wears a grateful smile, before the Kushtaka abruptly squeals and pulls back, feeling the sting of an alcohol wipe.

“Maybe not all of it.”

I let myself laugh this time. Some time passes before he feels comfortable easing back into his previous position so Ila can continue.

“Come ooon, don’t whine so much, this was bound to happen you know. Look at all the trouble you’ve caused!”

He chitters. Finally, my smile crumbles under a harsh realization.

“. . . I guess it’s not his fault. It was probably my powers that drew him out, and the reason people got hurt, including him.” I say as I gingerly place a hand on the Kushtaka’s back. “Sorry buddy.”

Ila stops what she’s doing to look at me. She appears to be deep in thought before speaking up.

“Y’know, it’s not all a bad thing. These creatures are coming to you for a reason right? Think of it as a chance to guide them.”

I give another laugh, a dry one this time.

“Sure, to world domination.”

“Says who?” She scolds.

“. . . Uh . . . . I’m not trying to be rude but. . . _Literally_ everyone, in the whole world.”

With a side frown, she places a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s not really everyone else who matters, man. Nobody else has power like this. You do.” She says, pointing at my chest. “It’s _yours_. . . Prophecies aren’t real. Power is just a tool, it’s the owner that chooses what it’s used for. And you don’t seem like a world dominating type, do you? . . . But, I guess we’ve only known each other for a few days. So don’t go pulling any surprises on me, you madman.” She says, pointing with faux accusation and another glistening smile. I can’t help but feel lost in the moment, reassurance has been a pretty finite resource for a while now. 

“. . . . . . . . . Why are you so nice to me? I mean, when everyone else isn’t. . . Why did you decide to trust us?”

Her grip loosens, a somber look now on her face.

“Well, like I said, ‘everyone else’ doesn’t matter to me. Never has. Besides, I was raised in a big family, so I guess I’m just used to welcoming newcomers. In general, kindness and understanding towards children is a pretty important thing around here. You’d be really surprised at how high my patience is.”

Suddenly, we hear rustling come from the entrance to the cave. It’s Doyle, with a tattered coat and he’s covered in what looks like blood. The Kushtaka cowers, presumably at the scent.

“Okay _YOU_ , on the other hand, are truly testing me.”

“Are you okay?” I ask sheepishly.

“Yeah, don’t worry, the blood’s not mine.” He quickly grimaces at his statement, realizing how bad it sounds. 

“Look, as soon as you’re done here, we gotta go.”

I frown at him.

“Why? Who were those people, what did they want?”

“. . . I don’t know. . . When I caught up with him he just said something about ‘Servant of Kur’, whatever that means, it’s probably best we stay as far away from them as possible.” 

“You mean you didn’t. . .’Take care of him’?” I stress with air quotes.

“What? No-”

The kushtaka lets out another gentle hiss.

“I think he’s nervous because he can smell the blood. . .”

Doyle rolls his eyes.

“All right, I can take a hint, I’ll meet you outside.” He says, climbing back through the mouth of the cave. 

Ila, who’s been working feverishly to keep up with our conversation, cleans her final scrape before rising to her feet and following him.

“I’ll be back, stay with the Kushtaka if you could, since he’s such a big baby.” She states as she leaves, the Kushtaka giving her one final offended chirp.

* * *

{POV CHANGE; Doyle.}

* * *

As I pace outside the den, the words ‘Take care of him’ ring in my mind. Is that where we’re at now? The concept of murder isn’t shocking, just a little awkward to talk about? I’m a lot of things, but assassin is one thing I’m glad isn’t on my resume. If he was still with his parents he’d be lecturing me, telling me that violence isn’t the answer. Things couldn’t have changed _that much_ , could they?

I start grabbing handfuls of any loose snow I can find and letting it melt in my hands as I try to rinse the blood from my body. It creates red tinted puddles all around me, which doesn’t make me feel much better. Kind of looks like a scene from a horror movie. I lower myself to my knees and keep trying, growing more and more irritated. It definitely doesn’t help that Van Rook’s standing 10 feet away and looking at me like a smug bastard.

“What?” I bark.

“Is just blood, dumbass. No need to act like an animal.”

I heavily fight back the urge to form a snowball and chuck it right at his stupid soviet head.

“Is everything okay out here?” Ila says from the cave opening, taking us both off guard.

“. . . Yeah, peachy.”

“That didn’t sound convincing.”

She comes up next to me, obviously eyeballing my mess but deciding not to comment.

“So. . . what do you think those people were doing?”

“I don’t know. . . That’s the problem,-” I say, kicking some snow. “-I have no _idea_ what they’re doing, all I know is that they were watching us, which means it’s not safe here anymore. We’re back to square one.” I say, before rubbing my temples and taking a deep breath in an attempt to gather my thoughts.

“It’s just. . . I almost went back for him. He was _this close_ to the cliff. I could have just. . . done it, and we wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore. . . I mean, If I was asking a priest, I know what the answer would be, but person to person, honestly. . . Should I have gone back?”

I catch her concerned glance and sigh out a mood lightening laugh, feeling a bit bad for putting so much on someone that’s only been dealing with our situation for a few days.

“Sorry. . . I’m not trying to put you on the spot. I just. . . can’t stop thinking about this stupid thing Argost once said. ‘A mother will kill another mother’s baby to save her own.’ I mean. . . what would I tell Zak if I had to kill for him?”

Her expression changes to a much milder one, that of sympathy. 

“Believe me, I know it’s hard to know right from wrong these days but. . . it sounds like you've done your best.”

I smile, trying to show a gratitude for her attempts at slowing my racing mind, though it doesn’t help.

“Thanks, but trust me, I know from trial and error, my best usually isn’t enough.”

“. . . Can I get all deep and philosophical on you for a sec?”

“I’m terrified. But go on.”

“Fear is. . . a _bitch_ , it’s a weird symbiotic thing where without allowing yourself to feel a certain amount you’d be killed, but if you have too much you’ll do anything to survive, and in a way it kinda kills your humanity off. The hardest part is keeping a balance. Whenever fear gets the best of you, think of what you’d have to say, what you’d have to do to resolve the aftermath of your decision. If the grief really is worth it, I have no doubt you’d do what needs to be done. You’re already taking initiative by being out here for Zak’s sake, your intentions are already clear. Try to listen to them.”

I’m unsure of how to respond, mostly because while I've spent all this time being cautious of her, this is the most trust someone’s shown towards me in a long time, and Much more than I’d ever grant myself. Still, I try to harden my exterior to reassure her that I believe her. 

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Van Rook says, casually walking up behind us.

“Uh, yeah, dick.”

I’d say he shot daggers at me, but it’s not quite that harsh. Butter knives, maybe.

“Can we please just get the cryptid to wherever it needs to be and get inside somewhere, it’s _freezing_.”

Ila quietly goes to retrieve Zak and the cryptid while I fight back another snowball urge. Even in times like this, he still always finds the most basic thing to complain about. It’s almost as if I’m taking care of two kids now.

As we prepare for our journey back, I think more on Ila’s words. I’ve spent a lot of time, mostly cold late nights, wondering if I actually know enough right from wrong to keep Zak safe. It wasn’t all that long ago that I was throwing concussion grenades at his parents for a stolen cryptid artifact, so I often wonder where would I be now if we had never reunited, or the more concerning question, what side of this mess I would be on. Frankly, I’m not sure if I should take his assumption of what I'd do for our safety as a sign that I need to ease up, or a sign that because I didn’t go through with it, I’m still not doing enough.

The bright side to thoughts like these is that they make our travels go by much faster. We’ve arrived at the basin ahead of schedule, and thank god. Our options were pretty much drive for hours to get to the other side of Alaska, or drop it off somewhere safe and let it figure itself out, hopefully as low radar as possible now that it’s injured. I think with our combined exhaustion, the latter is an obvious win.

“Just follow the basin that way out to sea, there’s plenty of places to live out there. If you ever need us, you know where to find us.” Zak states, guiding the Kushtaka to the edge.

With a splash and a thankful chitter, it seems like an adventure finally comes to it’s end. We still have to figure out what attacked it, amongst many other unanswered questions, but a moment of relief is still shared before Zak finally asks what we're all thinking.

“So. . . what do we do about the stuff we saw back at Mary’s Igloo?” 

I sigh a melodramatic sigh, seasoning what I’m about to say with faux disdain.

“I guess we do what Drew would do if she was here, _research_ it.”

Ila of course is quick to disregard my complaints in favor of actual help.

“Well, there’s a library back in Teller, but there’s a much bigger and older one over in Nome. I’m sure they’d have sections on ancient languages and history.”

“Might as well start there, If the runes really were Sumerian, then it’s not something you see everyday.”

As we head towards where we parked our snowmobiles, I’m quick to remember a rather important fact;;; I kind of look like an actual serial killer.

“Maybe we should find a rest stop on the way.”

“Good call. Besides, the child needs their sleep.”

“I’m not tired!” Zak retorts.

“Yeah, I was talking about Van Rook.”

I can’t help myself, I give her a high five, reveling in a moment that is _so_ much more satisfying than a snowball.


	7. A breather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang heads to the library, Doyle and Ila spend some quality time together, and only a handful of things go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: heyOOO its me :’D so once again, this one was delayed because of the holidays and the fact that im still working on getting my ged (halfway there baby!) so i should be updating regularly again by late january! thanks for sticking around ❤
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: Alcohol, some very dumb innuendos
> 
> POV: Doyle

* * *

I stand before a maze of bookshelves, settled intently in front of one labeled “ _Historical Nonfiction - Q-S_ ”. The air carries old parchment and plastic covers. My hand gently skims the novels, hopping from spine to spine as I mentally recite the titles.

I come across one called “ _Sumer; Religion in Mesopotamia_ ” and am quick to grab it, along with a few in the same corner. Once I start flipping through, my eyes can hardly parse the abstract drawings and names that can’t roll off my mental tongue, but a few images do stand out. I recognize them from the papers once scattered across Doc’s desk, from the holograms Drew could translate seamlessly as if she’s reading a children’s picture book, while I am completely lost. Still, I bring my discoveries back to the group.

“What’d you find?” I ask Zak, who’s holding a collection even smaller than mine.

“Not a lot. . . most of it we already knew.” He shrugs while plopping his pile onto the table in front of us. The top few in the stack are relevant, but my eyes travel to the colorful and thick book strategically positioned at the bottom, titled “ _Guinness Book of world records 2015_ ”. Nestled right above are some glossy comic books. In times like this, I try not to let myself forget he’s 11. It’s nice when he doesn’t forget either.

The mood abruptly shifts when I catch Ila speed walking to our table, carrying a much heftier stack than ours.

“I used the computer log and found a bunch on Sumerian legends and not tryna be rude about your, uh, ancestors or whatever, but they were weird as _fuck_.”

“We’re used to it.” I state with a shrug before turning my attention to the end of the table.

“And what did _you_ find Van Rook?”

He’s sitting with his feet up, eyes glued to a magazine.

“Working on it.”

“Well _Jesus Christ_ Cinderella, take a break, don’t work yourself to _death_.”

Paper crinkles as he hastily rolls it up and goes in for a smack, which I narrowly dodge, making him even grumpier. Zak, temporarily playing role of the only adult, brings our attention back to the books.

“Did you find anything good?”

Her response is an unsure hand wave.

“Ehh, not _much_ , but here, take a look at this.”

She flips to a page and points out a photograph, it’s an etching of a man wearing what looks like a hat with 4 winding tiers. They’re starkly reminiscent of the masked strangers we fought.

“They’re called ‘Anunnaki’ or something. It says they were a group of Sumerian deities, their stories are kind of inconsistent though. ”

I raise an eyebrow.

“They look like dumbasses.”

“You know, everyone kinda looks like a dumbass to me nowadays.” Ila remarks, her eyes not leaving the page.

Looking back upon my selection, I grab for the book on religion. When I get to the table of contents, lo and behold, _Anunnaki_ is the first chapter. I gently slam it shut and put it back in our now not so pathetic pile of information.

“Allright, grab your stuff and let’s study on the go. I’m not in the mood for having to host the world’s first silent library brawl if those guys decide to pop in on us.”

As we gather our books to check out, I happen to catch sight of our group in the security cameras.

 _Jeeeeeesus_. What a shitshow.

While the outfit change definitely helped, my face situation is pretty messed up, dark red and purple patches already forming under my eyes and on my nose from operation headbutt. My millionth bad decision this week had almost been forgotten in place of focus, the lingering headache my only reminder. I can see Zak behind me, fiddling nervously with his hood, looking a bit overheated but reluctant to reveal any more of his face than he has to. Ila fumbles a bit as she sets down her stack at the service desk.

The librarian takes one look at us and lets out a sigh. Whatever it’s directed at, spiritually I’m in agreement.

“Ila, you still haven’t paid your fees from last time. It’s almost $40 now.”

A nervous laugh escapes her mouth as she leans against the desk, putting on her best ass kissing face.

“I know, but this is an emergency, I promise they’ll make it back this time.”

“Ila. I say this to you with love. You have _most_ of Naruto checked out right now. Do you know how long Naruto is? _I know how long Naruto is_. You have to pay for this. ”

She grinds her teeth with a defeated smile. While she’s trying to think of her next tactic, Van Rook steps between us in an unexpected outburst.

“Uuuugh, you know what, if it’ll get us out of here faster. . .”

He slides two $20 bills across the table. The jolt of surprise my body feels is enough to give me flashbacks to when I got cold water shock.

“WOAH, hold the fucking phone, since when do _you_ offer to pay for something?”

He groans and rubs the bridge of his nose, in true angry dad that wants to go home fashion.

“The world is literally ending. If I have to spend my last dimes on a clue to stopping it, might as well!” He shouts, forgetting he’s inside a library. The woman before us stops scanning for a moment to shoot him a dirty look.

“ _Okay_ , okay, get a move on before you blow a vein old man.”

Before we head towards the exit I look for Zak to my left, then my right, and realizing I’ve come up with nothing, I do a full 180. He’s about 10 feet back, standing at the doorway of a small break room, watching a small muted tv. I go to call out his name when I see that It’s playing the news. According to the headline, it’s a segment on why Venezuela is under martial law because of ‘Kur Riots’.

As much as I hate to admit it, It’s times like this where I feel some respect for Drew and Doc. ( _Some_.) I can’t imagine how often they come across a feeling like this, of utter hopelessness, paralyzed by not knowing what magic words you can say to fix the world your kid lives in. But, since they’re not here, I have to make sure that even if I can’t say something _good_ , I can say something stupid enough to be funny.

“You think Van Rook’s going for world record of most stereotypical Russian guy?”

There’s not much of a reaction at first. But after a reluctant moment, his hardened eyes leave the screen and his face brightens.

“He was born with a bottle of vodka in his hand.”

I smile back, glad that my jest was appreciated.

“Oh definitely. Bet he already had stubble, too.”

He laughs and for a moment, even if it’s just a moment, I accept that things feel okay. Okay is better than usual, after all. I hold that moment for as long as possible, and before I realize it we’re outside and ready to go home. Unfortunately, there’s not much to think about on a snowmobile. There’s just the sound of an engine, and snow. And more snow. And more engine. So, when there’s something new, no matter how mundane, the paranoia is hard to ignore.

My eyes can’t help but follow what looks like a few large trails left by snowmobiles, larger and longer than ours. It strikes me as odd I guess, because this library is so close to city. There’s not much need for snowmobiles to come here, unless they’re visiting from far away like we are. “Okay” was fun while it lasted, I guess.

We take off. I see snow. And I hear an engine.

No. _Engines_.

“. . . Hold onto something.”

I make a sharp turn and then step on it. Van Rook makes a noise that can only be described as ‘middle aged man on amusement park ride who was mislead by his children as to how fast it actually goes’. I motion for Ila and Zak to follow us.

“What’s the matter?” She shouts once she’s caught up to us

“Look behind us, do you see anyone?”

With a quick glance, she shakes her head. Both Van Rook and Zak also look around, but there’s nothing to see beyond white. Okay, now I really do feel paranoid.

“. . . Nevermind. Just stay close--”

The rev of a snowmobile cuts me off. Two shoot in from both sides to box us. Even being mentally prepared, I have to swerve hard to avoid being hit dead on. As soon as I correct my course, I uncorrect it to drift Fast and Furious style towards the one advancing on Zak and Ila’s side. It veers and backs off, coming back to match my speed. I take this opportunity to catch a closer look at our confronters.

I’m surprised at the lack of masks. Their faces are exposed, besides being wrapped with fur lined hoods. All their clothes are dark and sleek, but they’re otherwise a very diverse group. They hold a completely different vibe than the people we dealt with earlier. All synchronized. All staring. But they’re just. _People_.

With Zak and Ila riding our tail now, I give another gesture to follow my lead, before cutting a sharp turn away from the city roads. We find ourselves on a particularly hilly area of the terrain. Good for losing bad guys, bad for driving in. Van Rook throws his head back and groans.

“Let me guess, ‘ _hold onto something_ ’?”

I smile apologetically and start zooming again, threading the needle between hills. In an attempt to follow, one of the snowmobiles starts zigzagging, eventually careening out of control over a snowbank. Haha. Been there, done that.

The other is keeping pace, but struggling quite a ways back. I start zooming between hill after hill, making sure Zak and Ila are right behind. I’d be impressed with her ability to keep up if I hadn’t already lost a race to her in the past 24 hours. I keep going faster till the constant turns start to make me dizzy, and when I do finally pause look back, there’s no one.

I see white. I hear an engine.

I decide to slow down to a reasonable speed. The sudden dip in action feels like we’re all taking a moment to catch our breath. As usual though, the break is temporary.

“. . . Sooo do we get to go home now?” Zak inquires.

I grimace. We can’t head to the cabin until we’re _100% sure_ we’ve lost them, having a reliable hideout is too important. On the flipside, if we stay out in the open for too long, we’re asking to get caught again.

The look on my face as I mentally argue this seems to catch Ila’s attention.

“. . . We can go to my house if you want.” Her suggestion comes out meak, despite her having to half yell over the engine.

“Are you sure?” I shout back.

“Yeah, I got a lot of places I can lay low. You guys don’t.”

I want to think it over for a moment, but truth be told I’m not sure if we have a moment. I give her a nod and let her lead the way.

  


Needless to say, by the time we get to Ila’s, it’s time for bed. Or rather, for Zak to go to bed. I usually stay up and do weird stressed out adult things till I pass out on the couch.

Approaching her home, it looked surprisingly large, but as we enter that feeling is completely inverted. It feels closed off, cozy. Half the rooms are dark, only illuminated by tvs and LED alarm clocks. The other rooms have dim lighting, her kitchen is the only one with full contrast. All the main rooms are connected around corners, except a few towards the other side of a long hallway, which I assume to be bedrooms. The living room holds a giant couch and flat screen to match, with various knick knacks scattered across a coffee table. It feels homier than any of the houses I’ve actually lived in.

Without a word, Van Rook heads to one of the bedrooms and shuts the door, most likely laying down so he can wake up at 7 AM like a true senior. I pick a corner to set down the bags from our snowmobile, gently, trying not to disturb the night time atmosphere. Zak drops his next to mine, a little less careful. I notice he’s deep in thought, apparently not taking in any of the chill vibes.

“What’s up?”

“. . . I just miss Zon. I hope she’s doing okay without us. . .”

I try to feign a helpful tone.

“We’ll see her in the morning.”

Ila, apparently having been gathering blankets and pillowcases, pokes her head around the corner to give her own encouragement.

“Besides, she’s a cryptid, wasn’t she accustomed to being alone at some point?”

I can physically see some of the weight come off his shoulders at her revelation. Damn it. Why didn’t I think of that. Accepting defeat, I try to change the subject.

“Yknow, we’re inside now, you can take your coat off if you want.”

He doesn’t look too thrilled at the suggestion, hands still gripped to his hood.

Ila suddenly looks deep in thought, walking past us and rummaging around inside a different closet. After a moment, she pulls out a small blue hat, with earflaps and strings on each side and an ornate puff ball on the end. She reaches it out towards him.

“You think this’ll work?”

He smiles back, quite possibly the widest smile I’ve seen since we got to Alaska.

“It was my brother’s when he was little. Well, one of them anyways.”

“Your brother had a lot of hats?”

“Nah, I had a lot of brothers. _And_ sisters. My parents had a whole mess of us, and when they couldn’t have anymore they just started adopting. I bet I have more kid clothes around here somewhere if it doesn’t fit.”

He hurriedly puts the hat on, tucking hair up on each side before taking a glance at himself in the hallway mirror.

“It’s perfect.” He beams.

I want to be jealous, but the newly acquainted and not much appreciated angel of forced maturity on my shoulder tells me it’s more important that he’s happy. Besides, nobody can replace me. Except Drew. And Doc. And Zon, apparently. Maybe fisk too. Van Rook, if we were desperate. . . I _guess_ Ila. Wow. Okay. This shit sucks. I hate being adulty. I wanna go back to throwing concussion grenades into Doc’s room while he’s sleeping. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

“C’mon, sun’s only down for a few hours.“ I state. Yes. That sounds responsible.

He stands up and stretches, taking his coat off on the way and dropping it lazily in the doorway of another bedroom, but purposely leaving his new hat on. Am I supposed to do anything? Tell him to brush his teeth? Go tuck him in? He’s 11. Now I’m over analyzing it. Here we go. It’s time for weird stressed out adult things.

I grab the snowmobile bags and curl up on a loveseat, pulling out a small radio and some headphones. I try to do this at least once a week, keep caught up on the kur pandamonium. I jump around from a couple different channels and it’s nothing but static. A couple more attempts and what I have is a local news station. Probably not worth my time, but it’s all I got. As they discuss tomorrows weather, I’m seeing the faces from the snowmobiles. I’m carving out their features in my mind, making sure to be on the lookout for the rest of our time here. As they discuss the opening of a new major park near Anchorage, I’m seeing the outline of the snowmobiles. They looked newer than ours, and so much more expensive. What were they wearing again? Black fur? Or was it black _With_ fur? The channel starts cutting out. I smack it a few times, before it goes completely to white noise.

“You aren’t gonna sleep?”

The question breaks through my concentration, and I look up to see Ila in front of me. Her hair is down, framing her face. Her outfit has changed to a tank top and pajama pants. The light from the tv is glowing around her. To see her, the ~doctor~, so casual and inviting, somehow transforms the environment back into something incredibly comforting. My frustrations and envy simmer a bit.

“Nah. Not uncommon for me, though.”

Without missing a beat, she pops into the kitchen to pull a large bottle from a wine shelf.

“Want some?”

Well, in the past few months. I’ve worked hard at trying to become a responsible guardian, but sometimes a bitch has just gotta turn up.

“Pour it directly into my mouth, please.”

She me a large mug. Good enough. I pound it all back. I’m not a huge wine fan, so who knows, maybe it’ll bore my party genes into sleep. When I put my cup down, she fills it up again, alternating between the two of us. Before long, the bottles gone, and she’s grabbing another.

I guess when it comes down to it, she’s not the _perfect_ guardian either.

  


* * *

  


“Ssso. You’re a doctor.” I slur out, trying to make converssation.

“Eyup.”

“Have you ever. . . removed a. . . bone?” I questin.

“. . . Nope.”

“ _Never?_ ” I sit up and stare at her in disbeleif. She shakes her h ead.

“Never.” She repsonds.

“Could you . . if you like. . . HAd to?”

“It’s not really a. . . a common solution.” Her facce appears too be genuinly lost in her thouhgts as she speaks. Shes starign blankly at the wall. I lean in.

“Prove yourself to me. Remove. One of my bones. Right now.” I demadn.

“. . .Why would you w ant me--”

“I just wanna know what would hAppen.” I defend, loudtly.

“Your bones would be gone! Is wHat would happen!” She’ss tryign hard not to laufgh.

“JUST-- Remove like ONE, like a SMALL one, so we can test the. . .” I forgett the wor d ‘medicinal’ for a monment. “The _properties_ of it.”

“I dont have my bone removal equipment.”

“ **What?** ” My voice is thicc with judgement at her l ack of profesionalism.

“Go d Doyle, you have to get an APPOINTMENT for that kind of thing, it takes MONTHS. There are. _COPAYS_.”

“Wait wait wait, I got a bone you can get rid of right now--” I start unziping my pantsz clumsily. She bursts out lau ghing, I can’t tell if it’s m y clever joke, or the sight of me strugling so hard trying to find my d!ck.

“You need some help?”

“Yeah it’s just. . . been a while. . . I MEAN,” I try quickly t o backpedtal.

“That is--” She laughs. “N ot a hot thing to say.”

“Listen it’s fine, yknow, it’s just like. . . riding a bike.” I catchj myself. “SORRY, _fucking_ a bike.”

We loose ou r dumb, drunkken sh it. She tries to compocse herself long enough for a respondse.

“Okay, First I fuck my bike. . .” I take a deep br eahte.

“And then I ride my wife.”

We’re in tearse, in a pile on the fl oor.

“I hate you so muuuch”

“Not enough to remove my bones though!” I shoutt, with faux (foe?) anger.

“Oh I see, that was the plan. Just frustrate me into a blind, b one stealing rage.”

I shrujg.

“Maybe. Does the thought of that make you mad. . . So mad you might jjust. . .” I pull on my armn, makign an impresively realistic click so und with my mouht.

We laugh agin, this time it fades and becomes a soothing silencse. Wine makess me tired af ter all.


	8. So strikes the harpoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gets a rude awakening. The stakes are high, and trust is low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors note: hello again! so first off, happy valentines day! secondly, I passed all my GED exams (halleluJAH) so I can start working on personal projects for a while again! :> im planning on going to college this year, but even at the soonest it most likely won’t be for months, so i’m gonna try to squeeze in as much ~me time~ as i can. With all that being said, i hope everyone enjoys what i have planned, cuz to put it bluntly this chapter is where shits gonna start popping tf off and im nervouS but excited as to where its heading, thanks for reading! ❤ 
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: Mild torture, death, violence, your general angst fest
> 
> POV: Doyle

* * *

Auuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.

_UuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUuUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh._

_**Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.** _

I hoarsely groan myself awake, my head pounding like a drum, and the wind piercing my ears. The wicked hangover is of course making every sound deafening, but I still mentally swear at the air for existing.

As I go to stir, I can feel a pressure on my shoulder. I prepare my eyes as best as I can for an imminent barrage of light, only to squint and wince as soon as they’re open.

For a moment though, if only for a moment, the pain becomes a background thought. It’s Ila. And not in some romantic, fell-asleep-on-my-shoulder kind of way that I can use to flirtatiously annoy her with in the morning. She’s laying upside down on the couch, her head dangling off and her legs propped up against my side. Surprisingly, my few remaining brain cells remember how she ended up like this. Her final decree of the night was, and I quote, “Man, fuck bats, I’m stronger, I could stay here all day.”

As gently as possible, I lean away and try to sneak towards a bathroom in search of some Ibuprofen. The pounding in my head increases with each step. It’s like an orchestra up in this bitch. The rasping winds are like awful violins that keep tempo to my heavy pulse.

Through sheer willpower, I’m able to reach a bathroom and begin rummaging through the medicine cabinet, like any good stranger in somebody else’s home would do. My stomach starts to sink. _Uh oh_ , I think. It’s been years since I’ve drank myself to the point of getting sick. I brace my hand against the toilet, just in case. On second thought, I’m not sure it is my stomach after all. Something’s making me uneasy. I can’t even think over the howling of wind though. Why is it so loud?

. . .

_**Whyyyyy is it so loud?** ___

____

I exit the room hastily, making a stealthy beeline for the front door. It’s shut and locked, tight. My tension settles a bit. I can still hear it though. This house is nice and doesn’t seem very old, and in our situation, I don’t feel comfortable brushing any suspicions off. My anxiety lures me through the hallway, following the wind until I’m standing in front of one of the bedrooms. I can’t remember which ones were vacant, so I knock. Getting no response, I grab the knob and open the door slowly. Yknow, like a dumb white girl in a horror movie.

A wave of cold air hits me immediately.

The window’s wide open.

_Biiiiiiiiiiiiitch,_

The next sound I hear is the floor creaking behind me.

_BAM!_

  


* * *

  


The wind is finally quiet, but only because it’s been replaced with a high pitched ringing. I realize I’m on the ground, and man, _fuck_ a headache, this feeling is skull splitting. Instinctively my hands go to the back of my head, sensing a trickle of blood. The past few days have been kinda rough, but this is icing on the ‘how am I still alive’ cake.

There’s a tug on my ankle, and when I find the strength in my neck to look up, all I can see is a silhouette. I don’t care who or what it is. I kick at it, landing a pretty good blow to the groin. They immediately double over. Lmao.

Momentarily, I start to feel alert again, though nowhere near what I could usually be. Shaking it off, I struggle to get to my feet. That’s when I see the silhouette fall forward, a very awake but equally hungover Ila standing there with a broken wine bottle in her hand. Hell yeaaah. _Fuck bats. You’re stronger._

Before long, the shadows seem to grow around us. I come to realize that it’s not just an intruder. It’s a planned attack. I’ve trained for this scenario, I’ve trained Zak for it, I’ve prepared the house for-- . . . Hm. I’m not in my house. I don’t know where Zak is. And also, I can’t think straight because I’ve been drinking like a frat boy all night. Something to feel guilty about later, I suppose.

By the time I can process my surroundings again, they have her by her arms and are trying to do the same to me. Distantly, I feel like I can hear Zak shout, and it happens to strike some adrenaline into my system. I elbow one in the face, blood immediately spurts from their mouth. _I have this under control_ , I think to myself, before an ironic and swift kick to the side topples me.

  


* * *

  


I startle awake this time, my head still reeling, but definitely sobered.

I’m in a room that looks vaguely reminiscent of a waiting room. As in, no tables, no decor, just chairs and tile. The only major differences are that I’m ziptied on the floor, and there’s no magazine racks.

By the door, there are two vaguely familiar men standing guard. One of them has wine stains on their coat (courtesy of Ila) and the other has a split lip (courtesy of my elbow). As I continue to scan the area, I notice Ila and Zak are lined up to my side. He looks tired, but mostly unscathed. Ila looks justifiably pissed.

“Hey.”

Her gaze softens as she turns my way, while Zak’s brightens.

“You okay?”

I manage to sit up with a loud groan.

“Yeah. What about you guys?”

He gives me a hard nod, while Ila opts for a comical shrug.

“Was kinda hoping to save that wine bottle. Put it on a shelf or something. Oh well.”

I give her a ‘what can you do’ smile in return. As the vibes try to settle, Zak impatiently puts on a boastful expression.

“I put a guy in a headlock!”, He brags. I pretend to look impressed at his remark, except that I’m not pretending.

“How long?”

“Like 20 seconds, I would’ve had him tapping if the other guy hadn’t come in.” He says, his voice trailing into disappointment.

“Eh, at least you did better than I did.” I reply.

We share a moment of comfort, but as usual, our downtime doesn’t last for long. The entrance to the room creaks open. A man enters, and I can tell by his walk, his look, that he’s the one running this. This isn’t my first rodeo. I know an eccentric sociopathic supervillain when I see one.

His long brown coattail follows him. His hair is a dusty blue, straight and parted to the side, aligning with his eyes. Well, his eye. The right one is concealed by a dark patch. _Wow_ , I think sarcastically to myself. _So original._

He looks my way for a moment, before passively turning his attention to his phone. Okay, actually, that did throw me for a loop. What, is there an app for writing evil monologues?

I brush his odd mannerisms off with a feeble attempt at taking control of the situation, starting with my usual style of reckless threatening.

“I know who you are.”

“Doubt it.” He replies, scrolling idly.

“You were the ones chasing us on the snowmobiles.”

He scoffs.

“Your memory is failing you. I don’t do dirty work.”

“No, I bet you don’t. You look a lot more like the kinda guy who wants to sit on a throne made of human skulls and bark demands at his evil henchmen.”

The room goes silent. His gaze finally lifts from the phone to me. The look he’s giving me is hard to parse. It’s cold and blank, yet inquisitive. The aura he has is something I’ve never come across before, and it gives the air a horrible tension.

Finally, he gives me a nonchalant shrug before looking back down.

“Yeah, I guess that’d be pretty cool.”

What. The _Fuck_. Is up with this guy.

With that, I give up on taking control of the room and simply resort to asking questions, hoping something will come of prying. He seems like a bad guy who can’t resist the dramatic flare of revealing all his secrets to his opponents.

“. . . How did you find us?”

“Mm, pretty easy,” He says, with sudden intrigue, pocketing his phone and pulling up a chair to give me a smug smile.

“Considering that you have a traitor in your midst.”

Aaand there it is.

After another moment’s thought, I shoot a rather vicious glare Ila’s way.

“What did you do.”

“ _Me???_ I’ve been in your line of sight since we met, how could I have--”

That unsettling feeling that I’m missing something big comes my way again. It seems to have dawned on Ila as well.

“. . . Where’s Van Rook?”

And just like that, speak of the devil and he doth appear.

“You’re late.” The man in the chair chides, as the door creaks open again. Van Rook enters the room soundlessly. We lock eyes, like two swords clashing. To say you could hear a pin drop is a violent understatement.

”Forty bucks to your name, huh.” I spit out. His silence envelops me and crashes like waves, only making me less and less patient for an explanation.

”How much did they _really_ pay you.”

He averts my slowly hardening gaze, I can’t tell if it’s from guilt or just apathy. Eventually, he gives me a casual shrug.

”Enough to get by.”

“ _You said_ money wasn’t important.” I press on, my voice like sandpaper.

When he looks at me again, this time it’s accompanied with a daring smile.

“No actually, What I said was, _it’s not as reliable._ ”

My blood starts to simmer. I can’t believe this. Here I was drilling self preservation into Zak, and I trusted a man who was such a snake he was practically hissing. My thoughts are scattered, I ask the only question I can think of.

“ _Why?_ ”

“Times are hard, people are crazy, yada yada. You know this as well as I do.”

My head falls to my chest, shaking in disbelief.

“Things have _always_ been ‘crazy’.”

I catch only a glimpse of his aggravated face as he turns his back to me.

“Whatever, I don’t have to answer to you.”

“I answered to you for _MONTHS_.” My voice accidentally breaks into a yell. It’s received with more silence. Good. I’m tired of listening to him.

The man from before, who up until now looked very uninterested with our whole affair, decides to chime back in.

“I’m Enki. By the way.”

He turns his attention to a somewhat irritated Van Rook.

“Sorry, I’m bored.”

The name Enki strikes me as oddly familiar, drawing back images back from the library. There was a story, an ancient legend where a Sumerian god named Enki slayed a giant serpent referred to as ‘Kur’. Not a particularly comforting recollection. Still, it makes this a little less intimidating, knowing this man really just opened a history book and stole an alias like a 10 year old boy playing pretend at recess and telling everyone to call him Goku.

His gloved hand gestures Van Rook to the door.

“You’re dismissed.”

As he walks past, he doesn’t dare look my way again. I still stare him down, hoping he’ll feel the heat from my eyes like flames. The man before us props his chin up on his arms, it’s just us now.

“So. Who’s Kur.”

The question pours from his mouth like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t hit us all like a punch in the chest. Like it doesn’t have the power to destroy everything, every _one_ we’ve fought so hard to protect. We seem to be collectively holding our breath, waiting as seconds tick by.

“Fine, we can just kill you all.”

“Wait!” I shout, before realizing it’s echoed between the three of us. There’s a brief somber pause before Enki lets out a laugh that would put argost to shame.

“Oh my god. I was bluffing. But I get it, you all were gonna try to claim it’s name right off the bat? All right. Interesting. This is may take longer than I thought.”

The guard to his left pulls opens a box for him, from which he pulls out a long black whip.

“We can start with something basic.”

I want to laugh. I really do.

“You’re holding. A whip. That is. The _antonym_ of basic.”

“Oh relax. I’m not actually going to kill you.”

“You want to talk this out over tea?” Ila jests.

He rolls his eyes, gently unraveling the whip and taking a few practice cracks to the side of us. It’s close enough that I can feel the air warp next to my head, but I don’t dare let this little gremlin see me flinch.

“Ok, don’t relax _that much_. It’s just that, hypothetically speaking, if Kur can keep coming back however it chooses, doesn’t it make more sense to deter it? Instead of just killing a devil over and over again, why not. . .” He shrugs, with another crack. “Make it so it doesn’t want to come back.”

His words send a shiver down my spine. This is fucked. This is so fucked.

“Don’t give me that look. You know I’m right. I mean, the solution is pretty simple for you, you confess, and whoever’s innocent gets to leave. You can’t let empathy get in the way of your rationality. Your _logic_.”

Logic? What part of any of this is logical? Where is the rationality? These concepts have been extinct for months. They’ve shriveled up and died in the cold, and I can guarantee they aren’t going to be found again in this room.

“Empathy isn’t illogical or irrational. It’s _human_.” Ila says, her voice strong but affected. He scoffs again, this time out of indignation.

“Of course not. What, you think I don’t have any empathy? That I’m not human? I’m trying to protect the world from _one_ thing that could destroy it. That’s more than an equal trade. Even a _child_ could understand that.”

In the corner of my eye I can see Zak turn his eyes to the ground, his hood crumpling a bit around his face. I’m glad I can’t see his expression. I think it’d just make me wanna kill this guy even more. I look back up at him, trying to infuse that malice into my own expression.

“That’s a pretty black and white idea of empathy.”

“Agree to disagree.” He says, waving his arm as his guards come our way. Before I can react, there’s the sound of a knife opening, and in a flash, I feel the restraints on my wrists loosen.

“Everyone stick out your right hand.”

I know lately things haven’t been completely normal, but I don’t know if I’ve ever been this confused by someone's presence. None of this makes sense. Even if Van Rook hasn’t already told him, everybody _knows_ Kur is a child. Everyone fears the white streak, and the orange eyes. All he has to do is look a bit closer and the cat’s out of the bag. He doesn’t seem stupid, just twisted. He knows. He _has_ to know. Why does he want us to say it? Why is he trying to drag it out of us?

“I’m not asking again.” He smiles.

None of us budge. This guy definitely doesn’t get humanity as much as he thinks he does. For instance, most people would rather die than do what they’re asked of by someone they hate.

Prefacing with yet another eye roll, he gives the guards a nod, and suddenly my hand is forced forward. I have an idea of what’s about to happen, and if it does, I hope he’s ready to lose the other eye. Can’t roll what you don’t have.

“I’ll give you one last chance. Tell me which of you is Kur.”

I stare him down, concealing any and all fear with an incredulous response.

“You already _know_.”

_W-psh!_

I feel a fiery sting as a red hot line appears across my hand. Ohhhh. My god you bitch. You huge, huge bitch.

“You’re naive. . . There’s more to this than just observing the obvious.”

He coyly takes a step to the side, stopping in front of Ila.

“You look like a local.” He mutters. She gives him a dead eyed stare.

“You look like a rejected Vocaloid design.”

I bite my lip, hard, screaming on the inside. I try to mask it by pretending it’s just pain, but I’m losing my mind. Why did she have to make the funniest roast while that man is holding a whip right in front of us. I’m going to die.

“. . . You don’t have to be here. I can tell. Why do you stay? Why do you enable your own destruction? Why do you protect a monster?”

I watch on as her eyes sharpen to match his look, his aura. Despite how calm her usual vibe is, she rivals him incredibly.

“I think you’re underestimating me.”

“If this is the hill you choose to die on, I won’t hesitate to lump you all in together. I’ll take you down, one by one, till there’s nothing left.”

“Okay, now I think you’re overestimating your _self_.”

His poker face finally turns to one of disdain.

“You will confess or you will all be treated as Kur. I’m not taking any chances.”

Her gaze stays hard, but her speech now takes on a new tone. It’s a tone I’ve heard from her a few times already, though not much before we met. It’s another concept that’s nearly extinct in the times we live in. A voice of reason.

“Okay, I get it. You’re scared. But you’re acting like we aren’t. Like the eleven year old to my side isn’t. You admit you’d be willing to take down innocent people for your cause, and that makes you just as bad as the monsters you’re to destroy. But you don’t care, as long as you’re the monster that _wins_.”

The calm, tense air completely snaps into a violent, angry one.

“ _CONFESS!_ ”

He strikes his whip at her, and she strikes back, grabbing it midair, letting it wrap around her hand with a presumably painful snap before yanking. He trips, and suddenly, they’re slammed face to face. Or should I say, head to jaw. He covers his mouth, blood spilling slightly between his fingers. 90% of me is in shock over the fact that without a doubt, that was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do, and 10%, that was the _hottest_ thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.

“Watch out!” Zak yells as a guard approaches her, ironically with the same knife he used to free us. She’s quick to unwrap her hand and brandish her newfound weapon, but is overtaken by the fact that she, like _most normal people_ in this day and age, has never used a whip.

The guards hold her, and the slow dripping of blood to the floor is the only sound that fills the hushed air. It’s not long before Enki recovers, grabbing the knife and holding it centimeters from her face.

“ _An eye for an eye._ ”

Just as things seem to be heading south (and I mean, clear across the border), a short text jingle seems to play from his phone, providing a pretty good dose of mood whiplash. ~~No pun intended.~~

He holds his ground against her for a moment, before curiosity seems to get the better of him. A casual glance down slowly turns to one of contempt. Whatever he just read, he didn’t like. He collects himself, letting a smile creep across his face. I can’t help but feel as though it’s an act. The knife is returned, along with a whisper to a guard before he departs again, taking him and leaving us and just one man. Hah. Big mistake.

“. . . Is your hand okay?” Zak questions, quiet as a mouse.

“Mhm. Hardly a scratch.” She lies.

“ _Shut up._ ” The man warns. As he moves, I catch a glint towards the back of his belt. Oh, you have got to be joking. They’re carrying _guns_ , and they’re out here using whips and knives? I see. I’m dealing with an ‘aesthetic over efficiency’ villain. Well, this should be a breeze.

“What do you think, we’re plotting something at full volume with you in the room?”

He takes another step. Good. Keep it up.

“I didn’t _ask_ what you were doing,”

One more.

“I _said_ ,”

There.

I leap at him, right for the holster. Now _this_ is more my style for taking control of a situation.

“Stay back.”

Feeling the cold metal in my hands jolts me, and I realize that I didn’t completely grasp where I was taking this scenario. Am I gonna shoot a man in front of my kid nephew and this stranger who’s just along for the ride?

“Go ahead, shoot me, I’d rather die than aid the devil.”

. . . No. Apparently, I’m going to shoot this man _outside_ , where nobody will see. Perfect. A+ plan.

“Go. _Now_.” I aim towards the door.

“. . . Doyle--” Zak urges.

“It’s okay.” I still can’t will myself to look at his face. Especially not now.

“I said, _go_.”

With as much reluctance I’ve ever seen a man muster, he takes a few steps out the door. Me and my new little friend follow him, maybe a little too closely.

“Where’s the exit.”

Silence. You’d think I’d have enough of hearing these guys talk, but I really don’t know how many more of their ~ _dramatic pauses_ ~ I can take. My grip tightens. Ila’s powerful question comes to mind. “Is it worth it”. It echos. It pounds at my brain. Actually, I might still be a little hungover.

I never used to ask myself if what I was doing was _best_ , as long as I knew it would work. Right now, this trigger would solve so many problems, but cause so many more. She’s right, it’s not just my own consequences anymore. How can I teach somebody they’re not meant for evil if I let evil become our only option?

My hand falters. I see that familiar white hair in the back of my mind, this time, telling me to take the high road. Ugh. I hate the high road.

_W-psh!_

The gun goes flying from my hand. In my moment of distraction, he had managed to pull out his own whip.

“What the fuck!!! Do _all_ of you have those? That’s-- . . . that’s really weird, man.”

“I know.”

It flies past me this time, I have to nearly bend over backward to dodge it’s return. Before he can rev up for another, I charge him and throw a punch. He throws one too, and we start a back and forth. Fists are flying so fast I can hardly keep up with them. This catches up to me, and he decks me hard in the stomach. I collapse to one knee, and with the rest of my strength, grab him by the abdomen and push. He falls, the whip sliding away from him.

In desperation, I grab it and wrap it around his neck, choking him till I can think of a new plan. I need more time. I just need time. Where are we. **Stop moving.** Where did we come in at. How many exits are there. How many other guards could there be. **Quit struggling**. How are we going to get around without a snowmobile. Could we make a run for it. **I’ll kill you.**

. . . What if evil _is_ our only option?

In my hands, I feel no more movement. I slump back against a wall.

Looking down at what’s left, I surprisingly don’t feel that bad. But in a weird way, not feeling bad is making me feel secondhand bad. It seems like I keep doing something wrong to protect the one person who needs to know he’s in the right. And I keep it up in hopes I’ll reunite with the only people that could ever be more disappointed with me than I am with myself. I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to face-

_Bang!_

My entire body jumps. The thud that follows seems to last forever. I turn to see another guard, knife in hand, laying in a pool of his own blood. So. There’s three guards. That answers one of my questions, I guess.

When I turn back, I’m shocked to see van rook standing there, holding a brown bag in one hand, and a smoking gun inches above my head in the other.

“YOU!!! _FUUUUCK_ YOU-”

“Yeah fuck you too, let’s go.”

He whistles towards the room with Ila and Zak, who are quick to join us in a sprint.

“What the hell is going on?”

“I’ll explain later.”

“What the fuck is in the bag?!”

“God, do you even _have_ ears? Can you please tell me if you have ears. Have you had them checked. Do they work.”

Wow. I am, somehow, immediately down for murder again!

We continue our escape with Van Rook leading the way, though I quickly figure out he has no idea where he’s going either. While that room was simple, the hallways and corridors around it are like a winding labyrinth. Your typical bad guy interior design.

We turn a corner and stop dead in our tracks. It’s the man of the hour, Enki, and he looks just a tad bit unhappy that I went and asphyxiated one of his men.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

He looks down at the bag in Van Rook’s arm, seemingly interested in what it contains.

“I see. That’s all you wanted. Hm. It’s kind of pathetic, trying so hard to protect the thing that will bring your end. It’s a shame you all have to go down the same route to--”

I grab the gun from Van Rook and fire a warning shot into the wall next to him. It ricochets, causing him to yelp and cover his ears. No more killing tonight if I can help it, but I can’t lie, it feels pretty good to shut him up.

We take off again, making sure to follow a different route than before. Yeah, this looks different.

“Isn't that the door we came out of?”

. . . Nevermind.

“All right, let’s take a left up here at the--”

The noisy shatter of glass cuts me off. I spin around to see Zak’s claw outstretched against a window.

“Guys, we’re nearly _ground floor_ , let’s just go!”

We all share a quick glance before funneling out into the cold. I guess the easy solutions don't always _have_ to be bad ones. I just hope he holds onto that.


End file.
